A Little Spice
by Farfalla
Summary: The Enterprise crew has to persuade a group of aliens who don't know they're from outer space to let them sample some of their native vegetation for a mission. Meanwhile, Kirk and Spock add a little spice to Valentine's Day. Includes spanking.


**Title: A Little Spice**   
Author: Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten   
E-mail: blueberrysnail (at) yahoo dot com   
Website:   
Pairing: K/S   
Warning: PG-13, spanking, Real Episode-Style Plot for once!   
Written for KiSCon 2004.   
Beta: Hypatia and Sensefille   
Disclaimer: Paramount owns two lonely single straight guys. This is about a devoted same-sex couple, so it can't be the same people, right? Oh, and by the way, if you flame this for being slash, it means my cat gets to eat your brains. It's not the best for her diet, but she'll probably enjoy the meal immensely. :P   
Summary: Kirk and Spock add a little spice to Valentine's Day... 

**A LITTLE SPICE**

Spock did not personally understand why physical pain should cause pleasure in certain beings, but as an observer of diverse cultures, he had encountered the phenomenon frequently enough that discovering it in Jim Kirk was not as disconcerting as one might suppose. For Spock, indulging his bondmate in his unorthodox but harmless fancies did not require his comprehension, only his open-mindedness, prudence, and love. Both men were mature and competent enough to ensure that Jim's creativity stopped just short of causing actual bodily damage. The concept was even acceptable to Spock's logical Vulcan mind--was it not logical to accommodate the desires of one's bondmate, provided one's own opinions on the matter were in the positive to neutral range? 

In other words, Admiral Kirk liked to be spanked. 

And so Spock spanked him. He spanked him hard, lightly, and in between. He spanked him in their cabin, in and out of his uniform, sometimes in the bed, sometimes bent over a chair. They discovered that the shower was not a good idea because the floor was too slippery and there really wasn't enough room in a starship stall anyway. And Jim liked it, and nuzzled up to Spock afterwards, kissing him on the underside of his chin and murmuring raunchy thoughts. Before Jim, Spock hadn't even realized his chin had an underside, but Jim could transform it into his favorite body part with a few breathy slurps. 

Spock was pleased that he was able to give his Jim so much pleasure. He knew it was an activity outside of the Vulcan culture, but inside their cabin they were safe--and conjugal privacy _was_ held in high regard by his people. What a couple chose to do was their affair. 

Valentine's Day was coming up and Jim wanted to talk about it. "What's your biggest fantasy?" he asked lazily one night, pushing the pillow down so that it didn't block his mouth when he opened it to speak. 

Spock anticipated the reason for the question--the upcoming Terran holiday provided a ready excuse for all manner of romantic celebration--but his answer still came from the heart: "To be your bondmate for the rest of my days." He wrapped his fingers around Jim's in a gesture both possessive and affectionate. 

Jim grinned. "Done. Well, that was easy!" he joked. "No, really, Spock. Tell me--anything. Anything at all. Doesn't matter how ridiculous." 

Spock considered the question. "On Vulcan, there are what you would call priestesses... they are women who have chosen to dedicate their lives to the study of logic and spirituality. The youngest ones, the adepts, are often extremely pleasing in appearance. They wear their hair long, and hanging free, unlike most Vulcan women. It shines like a rare metal." 

"Sounds like quite a sight," Jim commented dreamily. 

"I should like to imagine you surrounded by them, perhaps being bathed by them," Spock concluded. 

"Why, Spock--thank you!" Jim was red-faced and obviously pleased. "That sounds more like it should be my fantasy." 

"It is a visually appealing image," Spock replied placidly, and said no more. Jim understood that his voyeuristic tendencies came from his desire to share himself only with the one he loved, and years of having only his own thoughts as a sexual companion. 

"You know what I've been fantasizing about lately?" Jim purred, squeezing his hand slightly. 

"I do not," Spock answered, interested. 

"You--spanking me. In public." 

Spock raised an eyebrow. The voyeur and the exhibitionist--what a pair they made. Oh well, it was one more way in which they complemented each other perfectly. "Does your fantasy specify a location?" 

Jim shrugged against the bedclothes. "That's not the important part. There's just some part of me that just wants to cut loose, right there in front of whoever's there, and get smacked." 

Spock decided now would be a good time to give his rear a playful tap, and Jim instantly grinned. 

"That would be a great Valentine's Day present," Jim continued, "if you could figure out--a way to do it, without--well..." 

"Without drawing attention to both of us for engaging in conjugal behavior in front of others?" Spock was amused by the idea, but he was clearly not interested in actually carrying it out. "Especially since you hold command of this ship." 

"Yeah, I know, it's a little ridiculous," Jim admitted. "It just seems like a shame to waste a fantasy that's so easy to turn into reality." But he did not persist--he knew the Vulcan beliefs on privacy were ingrained in Spock's mind, as well as Spock's own shyness about anything personal with all but his closest friends. 

"It is time for sleep," Spock pointed out. "Tomorrow's mission, although concerning only an edible luxury and not a true essential, requires us to succeed where already one starship has failed. This will be a challenge." 

"Yes, I know," Jim told him sleepily, settling into the bedsheets. "I've been reading those cultural materials Lieutenant Williams gave me--over and over again. I need to figure out where the _Prosperity_ went wrong. There's got to be a way of convincing these people to deal with us. They seem reasonable enough." 

"Judging from your past performance as negotiator, the odds are in our favor," Spock reassured him, and they drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, Kirk, Spock, and a few other crewmembers beamed down to a deserted area on the shore of the capital city of Tosreth III. Since the city was a seaport, their cover story was that they were travelers from the ocean. They were met at a prearranged place by a stunning woman and four armed male escorts, all with dark green skin and blonde hair. Their coloring made them resemble a photonegative, but they were all pleasing to look at. And according to the anthropologist's report, their culture was as graceful as their appearance. 

"Greetings to the visitors," the woman said in a voice trained for public elocution. 

"Greetings," echoed her guards. 

"Greetings," Kirk smiled warmly at the woman. "I'm Admiral Kirk, from the _Enterprise_." 

"President Mezu," the woman answered. She held out her hand to Kirk as if inviting him to kiss it. Instead, he covered it with his own, and presented his other hand in a similar posture. She placed her hand over his, smiling slightly wider at his familiarity with proper protocol. "We welcome you to our home. Although we regret to insist that we are still unwilling to permit you access to our Tressa forests, we are curious about your culture and are eager to share our art and music with you, and learn from yours. We hope you enjoy your time in Tosreth City." 

"Thank you, Madame President," Kirk answered. "Allow me to introduce my entourage. This is my deputy, Mr. Spock." He held out his hand to his right, and Spock nodded. "This is Lt. Honesty Williams, our cultural anthropologist. Since you value art so highly here, you might be interested to know that she's got quite a talent for drawing." Lt. Williams beamed and reddened slightly. "And these are our security guards, Mike Hu and Randy Posnak. We are grateful for your hospitality and look forward to sampling your culture's finest arts. And, we hope you will at least give audience to our request--at least one more time." 

"Admiral," Mezu said with a sad, sweet expression on her face, "we will listen, but please do not be falsely optimistic. We know your species finds an inexplicable value in the oils found in Tressa bark, but we do not have the means to allow you access to its forests. They are protected, you understand." 

"Yes, we--understand," Kirk said, nodding. 

"Come!" The president beckoned to him and his party, and they followed her into a courtyard where a table was spread with a hearty meal. 

They sat when Mezu bade them, and all began to eat. 

"Captain, does any of this food have Tressa on it?" Posnak wanted to know. "We've all been very curious about it." 

"I doubt it," Kirk answered. "The people here are very protective of their forests, Ensign." He looked pointedly at President Mezu. 

"That is correct," she answered, picking up on his lead. "We do not allow invasion of any kind into the Eastern Forests, either by ourselves or by visitors such as yourselves. Although, I must add, your fascination with Tressa bark has been the most unusual resource any has ever sought from those woods, even since before my reign." 

"I'm sure that... those who came before us... told you of its value to us as a luxury commodity?" Kirk asked her. 

"Yes, they told us that the oils in its bark when distilled taste of a mixture of all the most pleasing of your native spices, and that many foreign cuisines would benefit from the research of its chemical components." Mezu sipped from a large, ornate flagon filled with a murky purple liquid. 

"Bark?" Posnak interrupted. "I thought spices came from seeds." 

"There can be other sources of what you call a 'spice'," Spock interjected. "Spices are dried plant substances that carry an unusually high concentration of flavor. Your cinnamon, for example, is made from tree bark, just like Tressa. It is actually the oils within the bark that provide cinnamon with its pungency." 

"It is not within our capability to find the taste of Tressa oil pleasing," Mezu explained to her guests. "Your culture has apparently developed a different sense of taste from ours." 

"Different environments often breed different dietary needs," Kirk countered cheerfully, thinking to himself that alien biology probably had a lot more to do with it, but the Prime Directive forbade him from pointing that out. 

"Quite true," Mezu agreed. "You may find our food saltier than what you find customary. The last party from your people seemed to do so." 

"Madame President," Kirk said, trying to get the conversation back onto business. "May I ask you directly-- why did you not let Captain Jenkins and her people take bark samples? Surely they explained that's all we require for our research." 

"Only a small quantity is needed," Spock added, "and after the chemical structure is clarified, a synthetic can be manufactured." 

"Captain Jenkins explained to us several times that the efforts of her team would not disturb the natural ecosystem of the woods in any way, and that the life history of the Tressa as a plant itself would be unaffected by their sampling," said Mezu. "But I was still forced to refuse her request. I do hope you understand, but it is not my decision." 

"Why? Why--is it not your decision?" Kirk looked at her with blazing eyes, but still smiling. 

"Because the woods are not ours to do with as we like," she said serenely. 

"We've already promised that gathering a small quantity of bark will not disturb the trees," Kirk asserted. 

"We still cannot decide their fate. They do not belong to us." She sipped again from her purple ink. 

Cultural residue of severe ecological damage in their distant past?A thought from Spock flitted to his dearest. 

Didn't say anything about that in all those reports I read,Kirk thought back, looking down at his food. He happened to glance up quickly enough to notice President Mezu watching his eyes with an expression of calm amusement. But before he could process that, an idea popped into his head. 

"Madame President," he asked slowly. "Who--exactly--owns the woods?" 

"What?" She raised both eyebrows. 

"You keep saying that the woods don't belong to us, or that they aren't ours. Well, I want to know whose they are! Who do they belong to?" Kirk flashed her a smile. Hey, it couldn't hurt! 

"They belong to the forest people," she answered simply, her face contorted into a small wrinkle of disbelief that anyone could honestly be so backward as to not possess that particular piece of information. "Who else would they belong to?" 

"Forest people," Kirk repeated in triumph, peering at Lt. Willams, the anthropologist. She was clearly just as surprised as he was to hear of such beings, and was wide-eyed in silent embarrassment. 

"Yes, of course!" Mezu confirmed. "And to preserve their culture, no one," and she emphasized this, "is to remove anything from the forest at any time." 

"I see," Kirk said, toying with his fork. He was thinking. 

"That is wise of you," Spock interjected. "Many civilizations have been laid to waste by the greed of conquest." 

Do you always have to be the devil's advocate?

Must I endure pointed-ear jokes even in the absence of Dr. McCoy?

That's not what.... oh, _you_.

"Madame President, if the forests belonged to you, would you let us gather Tressa bark for our studies?" Kirk asked after some silence. 

"I have already said that I would," she replied, "but I do not, and cannot." 

"But the forest people do--and can," Kirk said pointedly. 

Mezu was silent, considering the course of his thoughts. 

"May we... meet with the forest people, and negotiate with them directly? Since they are the ones who decide the fate of the trees, it seems natural to ask their permission." Kirk gazed into her eyes. Spock could almost see him mentally nudging his charm up a few clicks on the dial. 

"That is wise," Mezu agreed after a long, thoughtful pause. "You are a good representative for your people. I will permit you access to the forest, to speak with the chief of those that live within." 

"We are grateful to you, Madame President, for this opportunity--and for your hospitality." Kirk grinned broadly. Score! 

The Vulcan felt the excitement from the other side of the table. Kirk had succeeded where his predecessor had failed, and discovered the Tosrethian's true reason for forbidding their access to the Tressa trees. One realizing that it was concern for another society and not ecological issues that stood in their way, it was easy to fix a deal from there. This was the kind of thing James Kirk excelled at. 

Spock wondered how many times it was possible to fall in love with the same person. 

Back on the ship, Lt. Williams' mouth uncorked like a bottle and apologies began pouring out. "Admiral, I had no idea there was sentient life in those woods! I was only told about the people in the seaports and villages. Those trees were so thick--I didn't think anything bigger than a dog could survive in there! I'm really very sorry--" Her head was shaking sadly from side to side the whole time. 

"Williams--it's all right." Kirk placed a hand on each of her shoulders until she calmed down. "Everything worked out, didn't it?" 

"It is not the lieutenant's fault at all," Spock commented. "The life science teams did not report sentient life inside the Tressa forests, so she had no way of knowing there was anything a cultural anthropologist should be interested in within its borders." 

"That's strange," Kirk said. "Why didn't they find settlements?" 

"Signs of sentient life usually include evidence of regular campfires, shelters, or other modifications to the environment," explained Spock. "No doubt we will soon discover why none of these were observed." 

"I'll get back to my quarters and start working on those forest people," said Williams, fluffing the back of her hair with her fingernails. 

"Good, Lieutenant." Kirk watched her walk away down the hallway. 

His reverie was disturbed by a question from Ensign Posnak. "If those people down there don't eat the Tressa bark, and no one's allowed to take anything out of the forest, how did Starfleet know it tasted good in the first place?" 

"Starfleet discovered this planet when an emergency escape pod from a damaged shuttlecraft landed in the middle of the woods," Kirk explained. "The _Prosperity_ was sent to retrieve it, and once it was back on the ship, Captain Jenkins noticed it was covered with scented oil." 

"Captain Jenkins is an award-winning amateur chef," Spock piped up. "She was intrigued by the clearly pleasing aroma, but salvaging samples from a space pod proved to be scientifically problematic." 

"She presented it to Starfleet with a request to beam down and negotiate," Kirk continued, "but, as you saw, that president down there would have none of it." 

"Yeah," agreed the ensign. "I'm glad they sent you next." 

Kirk smiled broadly. Spock agreed. 

They spent the next several hours on the bridge, informing Starfleet of the progress of the deal and babysitting the ship while the anthropologist and her team completed their report. Spock sat slightly turned in his chair, so that he could see Jim in his peripheral vision. He was so proud to work alongside him--a pride that he finally felt comfortable with, after his failure at Gol and experience with V'ger. Pride and love. Jim was exactly the right type of person for their current mission. He always managed to find any possible loophole in an offending restriction, with of course the greatest concern for fairness all around. It took a creative mind to realize that President Mezu's repeated statements that the woods weren't the property of her citizens weren't merely tired rhetoric with vaguely environmentalist goals--instead, they were the quite valid assertions of cultural property laws of the area. 

Spock basked in the glow of that creative mind. 

On the way to dinner, they stopped by Lt. Williams's cabin to collect her data on the forest people. She was ready for them, almost immediately showering the Admiral with an armful of data chips and PADD scribblings. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he said smoothly, juggling the bounty of her research. Spock offered a helpfully cupped hand, and caught the overflow. "My goodness, Lieutenant, you've been extremely productive." 

"Thank you, Admiral," Williams said, beaming. "The forest-dwellers have a simple life and a ritualized culture. They're vegetarians, except for insects, which they count as plants, believing them to come from flowers or decaying fruit." 

"Fascinating. A seemingly logical but totally fallacious conclusion," Spock mused. 

"I thought it was neat," Williams agreed. "I'm actually thinking of writing a paper on them. I've had fun with this!" 

"Do they have any beliefs about the Tressa trees we should know about?" Kirk asked. "If what we're asking for is something sacred to them, that's an important factor in the way we ask." 

"Well, they use it to scent their incense," said Williams. "Like we do with cinnamon on Earth. Incense is very important to them. They believe that God created the world out of ash, and all the ash that falls from the incense sticks they burn in their ceremonies is carefully collected. That way, everything will be there, safe in the ash, waiting for God to use it to remake the world some day." 

"But it's not the Tressa itself that's important?" Kirk started stacking the data chips in his hands to make them easier to carry. "Just the ash?" 

"From what I've been able to tell," Williams affirmed. 

"What else can you tell us about their culture? What about gender roles?" 

"Actually, they don't even have gender. They're an entirely different species," said Williams. "Since they all reproduce, I'm going to call them all female. They look like giant lizards, with two sets of upper arms with grasping hands like primates." She opened and closed her fists unconsciously as she said "grasping hands". 

"There are species of lizard on Earth known to be all-female, with both reproducing," Spock commented. 

"Do they pair-bond?" asked Kirk. 

"Yes, and they have very strong roles within the marriage. There's a very definite dominant partner and, well, not exactly a 'weaker' one, per se, but..." Williams thought for a second. "One partner is thought of as being under the 'protection' of the other. And when they reproduce, the offspring of the weaker partner is thought to be the weaker of the two sisters. If she's genetically otherwise, she has to prove herself within the tribe." 

"Sounds very interesting. I'm going to take all these back to my quarters and read them after I eat some decent food," said Admiral Kirk. "Mezu's banquet was one of the saltiest meals I've ever eaten." 

"I know," said Williams sympathetically. "Oh, Admiral, before you go--while I was waiting for some of the scans to complete, I had a little bit of free time to work on that Vulcan drawing you commissioned. I haven't inked it yet, but would you like to see it anyway?" 

Kirk's mouth dropped open slightly in minor dismay, but he recovered quickly. "That's great, Lieutenant! We'd-- I'd love to see it." So much for surprises, my love.

Spock's eyebrow went up. 

Williams went to her desk and rummaged around in a folder, then retrieved a piece of sturdy drawing paper covered with pencil sketches. "Here it is," she said proudly, turning around the paper for the scrutiny of her commanding officers. 

Across the paper lounged the reclining figures of five beautiful women with pointed ears. Their hair flowed long and shining down to the waist, and they were dressed in simple white gowns. Vulcan symbols adorned the backdrop, painstakingly copied with the skill of one used to studying the subtleties of ancient cultures. Spock absorbed the image and a most un-Vulcan swelling of exuberance rose in his heart. His face betrayed nothing, but Kirk felt it. 

"It's beautiful! Lieutenant Williams, your talent is a treasure." Kirk beamed at the artist. 

"So it's what you wanted? I wasn't sure--I had to look them up in one of my data chips." Williams smiled modestly. 

"It's exactly what I wanted. It's perfect," Kirk said exuberantly. "Well, it'll be perfect when you ink it, I mean. Can you have it by tomorrow? If there's time when you're done analyzing Tosreth, I mean." 

"Yeah, it won't take long," said Williams. 

Kirk could tell Spock was suppressing his outpourings of love until they could be alone. Spock merely said, "Your skills are commendable, Lieutenant." 

"Thank you, Spock!" she said brightly. "I guess impressing a Vulcan with a picture of Vulcan priestesses is something to be proud of." 

"I'll have the credits set up to transfer into your account when I pick up the inked version," Kirk told her, starting to leave the room. "E-check to 'Art of Honesty'?" 

"Yes, that's right, 'The Art of Honesty'." She grimaced a little self-consciously at her own play on words, and then waved good-evening to Kirk and Spock as they exited her quarters. 

Kirk gave Spock a boyish wink as soon as they were alone in the corridor. "So? You like your Valentine's Day present?" 

"Jim," Spock said in a low voice. "I shall relish the opportunity to examine it in private." 

"'Examine' it?" Jim smirked. 

"Admire it, study its beauty," Spock continued. "But, Admiral, it is flawed." 

Kirk prompted him to continue with a twitch of his eyebrows. His expression was almost that of Scarlett O'Hara's, blasé and flirtatious at the same time, because he sensed what was coming. 

"It is missing you," Spock said promptly. 

"I know. I thought it would best if I didn't ask her to draw that. She might get the wrong idea," he said, with a cheeky smile. 

"Most likely a wise decision," Spock agreed. 

"But--think of it this way, Spock--I'm right here, and you can look at the picture next to me," Kirk suggested playfully. 

"Not entirely the same thing at all, but it is a logical compromise." It was deadpan. Kirk was amused, as usual. 

After dinner, Spock went to the science lab to work on some of the several experiments he was running simultaneously. As he perched on his stool, staring into the screen of the electron microscope, his mind wandered back to Jim. Sometimes the man stunned him with the sheer volume of his incredible qualities. Intelligence, interpersonal skills, military tactics, discipline, diligence, dedication, creativity... loyalty... devotion. Even putting physical beauty at the last priority, as Spock did, Jim came out far ahead anyone else. Holidays of any kind were never important to Spock, but he was extremely touched by Jim's gift. Jim hadn't merely given him a piece of artwork--he was trying to, within reason, fulfill his fantasies--at least in representation. 

Jim had fantasies of his own, Spock observed. His mind went back to Jim's pillowtalk the night before-- 

_"You--spanking me. In public."_

Spock had dismissed the idea as out of the question due to propriety and decency, as well as courtesy to uninterested third parties. But now Jim's words came back to his thoughts, and he meditated on them. He had a great deal of brains, he decided, and he may as well attempt to see whether or not they would bear fruit if unleashed on this particular personal dilemma. 

_There must be a way of covertly completing this task,_ Spock insisted to himself. _There are always possibilities._ He began to mull them over. 

His first idea was to consider situations in which public spanking was culturally acceptable. The first thing he thought of was birthday parties. He remembered being a young boy, visiting Earth, and watching one of his human cousins get hit on the rear seven times to celebrate his seventh birthday. At the time, the ritual had seemed like just another illogical, incomprehensible useless human behavior. Now he seriously considered the rite. 

But Jim's birthday was months away, and besides, Spock seriously doubted that the custom of the birthday spank extended beyond puberty. He fiddled with the microscope, recorded some data, and returned to his brainstorming. 

The most obvious purpose of a spank was to punish, but corporal punishment would be out of the question for a Starfleet officer. This wasn't the Terran Navy of six hundred years past. The idea was doubly invalid, because as Kirk's subordinate, Spock doubted he'd be in a position to carry out such punishment even if an offense was committed to warrant it--which was unlikely. 

Spock got up from his stool and picked up a caliper. He continued to think as he measured the stem growth on an alien berry plant with which he was doing private research. 

Terran athletes displayed a behavior related to spanking--what was it? Oh yes. Sometimes in the locker room while changing, males would safely dissipate both the latent violent urges and latent homoeroticism present in their aggressive sport by striking each other on the rear with a towel. Spock considered this briefly, because he and Jim frequently enjoyed exercising together in the ship's gym. However, the Enterprise changing room was fairly private, and Spock realized that such an act would be both based on psychology uncharacteristic for him and too secluded to bring Jim any extra pizzazz. 

He measured his plant stems. One by one, his logic ruled out every idea that came into his head. For a moment he briefly imagined the forest-dwellers they'd meet the next day having some kind of peculiar greeting custom involving group spanking, but he dismissed this as highly improbable. 

He finally put the matter out of his mind and concentrated completely on his work. 

The next morning was Valentine's Day. Kirk, Spock, Williams, Posnak, and Hu were passengers in a large wooden wagon being drawn by two of President Mezu's horses. She rode in a raised seat at the front of the wagon, with one of her guards guiding each horse. 

It was a fine, sunny day and Kirk was optimistic. He'd been up half the night studying Williams' data, but adrenaline and curiosity were pumping through his veins, better than coffee. Breakfast on board the ship this morning had been amusing; someone in mess apparently thought it would be a cute idea to make heart-shaped pancakes and stick plastic "Cupid" arrows through some of the donuts and fruit. Spock, of course, reminded him that the only organ in the human body that was actually shaped like the traditional Terran "heart" was the prostate, to which Jim snickered the predictable response. McCoy had bitched at Jim for eating too many donuts, but he'd laughed it off, explaining that he was collecting the arrows in case the lizard hermaphrodites turned out to be unfriendly. He didn't really think that was likely, of course. 

The wagon was pulling them out of the seaport city and into the countryside, where it would deposit them at the edge of the Tressa forest. They passed several orchards and fields, and admired their bucolic beauty. The President looked pleased at their approval. She and Williams were comparing their drawing portfolios and chatting like old school chums. The Enterprise men watched them with the bashful admiration of they who are without artistic talent. 

Mezu lingered for a moment over the sketches for Kirk's gift for Spock. Her eyes floated to Spock, then back to the pointy-eared women in the picture. She didn't say anything, but Kirk could see the wheels turning in her mind. 

The towering, exotic forms of the Tressa trees appeared on the horizon, and as the wagon drew closer, Spock smelled the sweet, pungent, alluring fragrance of its bark. It was indeed quite pleasing. Judging from their expressions of ecstasy and deep breaths, the humans with him seemed to agree. 

The wagon stopped, and Mezu's men helped the Enterprise crew out onto the ground. The President stood by the horses, and Kirk approached her to thank her. Spock was not part of their conversation, but he heard every word with his sharp Vulcan ears. 

"We're very grateful for your help, Madame President," Kirk told her, and smiled warmly. "I look forward to meeting you again after we leave the forest." 

"We'll luncheon here, and we will be waiting," Mezu assured him. "Then we will guide you safely to your ship." 

"That's very kind of you, but we only need escort back to the harbor." 

"I really would love to see your spaceship." 

Kirk didn't miss a beat. "Spaceship? Where'd you get an idea like that?" His face danced with amusement. Spock, however, could feel the confusion swimming beneath his brow. 

"Don't worry, Admiral Kirk, I won't tell a soul. You think I want my city in a state of mass panic?" Mezu gazed at him serenely. "There is no new ship at the harbor, and your people are definitely not used to long sea voyages. Your tolerance to our salty food is, if you'll pardon me, lower than a young child's." 

"You have a very healthy imagination." But Kirk's eyes were flirting with hers. 

"You probably aren't allowed to tell me," Mezu said. "It's all right. I understand. I won't say a word. But I can just tell, even if you don't answer me. Even if nobody talks about it." She paused. "Just like you and your pointy-eared friend." 

"What about Spock?" 

"Never mind, Admiral. You're both lovely people." Mezu patted him on the shoulder. "Good luck in there!" 

Kirk took her hand. "You're an intelligent woman. I'm sorry we can't take you to our ship, but it's--too far out at sea for that. Maybe some other time." 

Mezu nodded. "I understand." 

Kirk rejoined his party and led them into the woods. Spock fell into step behind him. "Mezu's conjectures are a tribute to her deductive reasoning," he commented. 

"Mmm," Kirk agreed. ""I'm glad that, having figured us out, she decided it wasn't a problem." 

"Fortunate." 

"I didn't confirm anything." 

"Of course. That would violate the Prime Directive." 

The five officers hiked deeper into the woods, all carefully watching the ground to avoid large puddles of mud and half-submerged tree roots that rose up in random places like wooden snakes waking up from a nap. The sky was dark with the thick compound leaves of the Tressa foliage, and in the distance they heard the plaintive chirp of an alien bird. And everywhere, the scent of the bark tortured them with its delicious sweetness. "I'm so hungry, Admiral," Williams whispered shamefully. "I keep craving a cookie!" 

"Have some of your rations, Lieutenant," smirked Kirk. "With all of this Tressa around it might fool your tastebuds into thinking the food is flavored." 

"A good percentage of human taste derives from the olfactory system," Spock added. 

A few minutes later, Spock's tricorder beeped. "We are approaching two life-forms." 

"Look!" Kirk gestured with his head. 

Peering out at them from behind one of the trees was a large, brownish-gray lizard standing on two legs. A belt of twined vines was tied around its waist, from which dangled a few small woven pouches. It studied them with trusting curiosity. A smaller of its kind lurked behind it, examining the newcomers with a little more reticence. 

"Hello," Kirk said to the lizards. "My name is Kirk. We've come to make friends." 

The bigger lizard stepped towards him slightly, holding its mate protectively slightly behind it. They both looked at Kirk expectantly, clearly waiting for something. 

Kirk thought for a second, then stepped forward himself. Shooting a glance at the landing party, he took Spock by the wrist and moved him behind him. Then he looked at the lizards for approval. 

They were impressed, and both hurried forward with all four arms waving joyously. "Welcome! I am At, and this is mate Snoo," said the big one. 

"I am Kirk. This is Spock." Kirk kept everything simple, for the lizards. 

"You have healthy offspring," said At, looking at the two security men. Apparently, fitting the landing party into the box of its brain hadn't been difficult--clearly, to it, Posnak was the child Kirk had borne, and Hu, with his Asian coloring, was of Spock. At couldn't figure out what Lieutenant Williams was, though. "Who is this?" 

"This is Williams," said Kirk. "Our friend." He hoped that would be enough. 

It was. The lizards, satisfied that the newcomers were people with families and not demons, were only too happy to bring them to the center of their village. They lived in trees, and communed in shallow underground caves. Children played happily in the snaky tree roots, and adults scurried from place to place carrying food plants, ropes of twined vine, or tiny pebbles. 

Kirk explained to the At that he and his people would like to trade for some tree bark, and he wanted to know who to speak to about such a trade. At cocked its head from side to side, and then led the landing party to the mouth of one of the caves. "Wait here," it explained. Snoo waited outside with them, looking shyly at all of them and nervously playing with the bags on its twine belt. 

After a few minutes, At emerged from the cave leading a group of lizards who all wore circles of leaves on their heads. This was apparently the ruling body of the village. "This is Kirk," At explained to the others, "and Spock, and their family." 

The sage, old lizards inspected the landing party with bright, beady eyes. "You have done well for your size," one of them commented to Kirk, "to be protector of a larger mate." 

Ignoring the ensigns he knew must be smirking behind him, Kirk nodded humbly and smiled. "I care for my family." 

"You wish to trade for tree skin?" another of the older lizards asked. "Please, enter the cave." 

Dark granite pebbles lined the floor of the cave, which was lit by small, simple fires on stone ledges along the walls. At the far end was an altar crudely hewed from stone with a shallow, bowl-shaped depression on the surface. White-gray ash rose out of the depression in a graceful, sculpted pile. This was where the leavings of their incense would stay, until God chose to re-create the world from ash once again. It was the way of things. 

Williams studied the altar with anthropological fascination. 

"What have you to trade?" asked one of the lizard elders. 

Kirk cocked his head at Williams, and she unwrapped her drawing portfolio. The lizards made noises of awed appreciation at her beautiful portraits of the food plants they loved best, and began talking animatedly amongst each other. Kirk looked across the group at Spock and smiled. The negotiations seemed to be going well. What a boon a good artist could be--even in the most unexpected situations. 

One of the lizards caught his attention. "You wait here," it instructed. "We will decide what we want." Kirk nodded, and they all filed from the cave. 

"Williams, you're a treasure," Kirk beamed at her when they had gone. 

Honesty Williams blushed. "Oh, Admiral... thank you. I swear, I had no idea I'd ever be using my artwork for anything like this." 

Kirk stepped backwards casually towards the wall. "Well, with that kind of talent, it's no--" 

Just then, his foot hit one of the snaking, exposed tree roots that peppered the landscape. His body twisted and flew backwards as he stumbled against the altar... straight into the well of ashes.

A voluptuous cloud of white-gray dust rose in the air behind the Admiral, and ashes splashed down onto the pebbled ground. The entire landing party froze in horror, each imagining in his or her own mind a different nightmare scenario. What would the lizards do when they returned and found their altar desecrated? The Tressa bark was as good as lost. Hopefully they wouldn't resort to violence as well. They acted meek enough when things were going well, but all five crewmembers had noticed the lizards' sharp teeth and claws. 

"Posnak! Hu! Quickly!" Kirk hissed at his ensigns. He pointed to the ashes that littered the earth. "Bury it under the pebbles." He turned around to smooth over the ashes remaining on the altar and gasps rose from his crew. "What?" 

"Your rear end, Admiral," Williams said mournfully. "It's covered in ash." 

Kirk's mouth dropped open. He turned to Spock, but before he could say anything, the Vulcan cut him off. "Excuse me, Admiral," Spock said brusquely, and charged towards him with an extended hand. 

By the time Kirk realized what was going on, Spock was hitting him on the backside as hard as he could with the flat of his palm. Puffs of ash fell away with each stroke, clearing away the dust from his black uniform pants. Kirk's skin burned and his heart pounded with adrenaline. Encouraged by his inner glow of excitement, Spock was diligent at his task. He didn't miss an inch of fabric, and before long, Jim's pants looked almost as good as fresh out of the canteen. 

There was still a little bit of discoloration in some places, so Spock pressed in with his hand and rubbed away the excess ash, scrubbing with the force of his fingers. He massaged away the rest of the whitish dust, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. 

Jim, gasping, slowly turned around to face him. "Spock," he said, eyes glittering. His face was flushed and shimmering with sweat. 

Spock simply looked at him. Beautiful. 

Later. Kirk looked around at his crew. The two men were on the ground pushing pebbles around to hide the spilled ash, and Williams was smoothing over the pile on the altar with her deft artist's fingers. He nodded, pleased, and took a deep breath. 

By the time the lizards returned, there was no perceptible trace of the accident. Kirk and his party stood around the cave smiling and pretending nothing had happened. 

"We have made our decision," said one of the lizard elders. "We will give you the tree skin." 

"And in return," said another one, "your offspring must create pictures of us." 

"Yes, yes, of all of us! And my mate," said the first one. 

"And my offspring," said another. 

Williams' mouth fell open slightly and her eyelashes fluttered. She looked at the Admiral, then back to the lizards. "Well... all right," she said, blushing terribly. 

"Thank you, Williams," Kirk said gently. 

She sat down on one of the tree roots and took her drawing supplies out of her knapsack. The lizards lined up eagerly, smoothing down their scales and polishing their claws against their hips. 

Kirk and Spock sat down on the earth and rested against a rock, their hands by their sides, fingers barely touching. Inhaling the sweet, heavy scent of the trees around them, they relaxed with the knowledge that their mission had borne fruit and that this had definitely been a successful Valentine's Day. 

**END**


End file.
